Tell Me
by captainkitten
Summary: After a lead on the location of a secret Hydra base turns belly up, Peggy and Daniel seek refuge in an old hunting cabin during a snowstorm to tend to the wounds Daniel has sustained.


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She was well acquainted with the sight of blood; you couldn't survive a World War without becoming so. She'd been stitched up more times than she could count, had sacrificed far too many perfectly lovely dresses to the ghastly red stains the stuff left behind.

But this time, it wasn't her blood. And _she_ was the one doing the stitching.

"Careful there, Florence Nightingale," Sousa's head twisted to the side, looking over his shoulder and catching her eye as she crouched behind him. The bullet had gone through clean enough, which was a relief, but he had lost a fair amount of blood in the process.

"Oh come now, you're made of sterner stuff," she teased, working to keep her voice light as she dressed the wound. He would need stitches if they – _when_ they – got out of this mess. She just hoped the bandage would hold until then. He was shivering, and she wasn't sure if it was from blood loss or the cold. Not that either boded particularly well. She could tell he was trying to control it, trying and failing miserably, and worry started pooling heavy in her gut. Her fingers grazed the edge of the makeshift bandage as she tied it off – the white silk of her slip contrasting starkly against the dusky gold of his skin.

 _This would not do._

She would have Thompson's arse for sending them up into the mountains on such a wild goose chase of a mission, especially since she was _quite_ sure it was all an attempt to distract her from prying into his continued secretive business with the War Department. The sneak.

Standing, she began rummaging around the small hunting cabin for anything that could provide warmth. It had been a godsend to stumble across the shelter as they fled from the spray of Hydra bullets, one of which had unfortunately found its way into Daniel's shoulder. But the temperature was dropping quickly, and she has spent enough time in the field to know what snow smelled like as it blew in. The two small woolen blankets and old flannel jacket she found would provide a paltry defense at best against the cold seeping through the cracks in the walls. She looked back to where he sat on the dusty floor, shaking and rumpled and covered in blood, shirt hanging off one shoulder, and she knew what she needed to do. Without a second thought, she walked back to him, fingers plucking at the top button of her blouse.

"Daniel, I'm going to have to apologize, but I fear I'm going to need to get a little…forward."

"What?" Confusion knitted his brows before they shot straight up in surprise when his eyes fell to where her fingers were continuing to undo her buttons. "Wait, what are you doing, Peggy?"

"You're shivering to the point of worry, I can't tell if it's the cold or shock setting in. Either way, it won't do," she said matter-of-factly, continuing to unbutton her blouse. She couldn't quite look him in the eye though, instead concentrating on the jut of his chin, feeling more than a little awkward. While things were better between them these days, there was still so much unspoken. They still hadn't talked about Violet's betrayal, or Wilkes' disappearance. The air often still hung heavy with tension when the right moment caught, resulting in the familiar pang in her heart as she felt the distance grow between them when all she wanted was to be close.

To tell him everything.

Glancing at him, she knew he wanted to argue with her, that look of his was settling across his face – the one where he wanted to say something but was restraining himself. And it was that look, combined with the blush beginning to stain his pallid cheeks, that exasperated her with them both and shored her resolve. "Oh for heaven's sake, Daniel. Now is hardly the time for gentlemanly propriety. I can hardly fight these men on my own, and I thought we were supposed to be a team?" she questioned with a innocent tilt of her head.

"Don't you pull that team line on me. I just need to p-put my shirt back on now that you've bandaged my shoulder, you don't have to―"

"You know as well as I do that body heat is the most effective solution in these sorts of situations. Unless you were stationed in a different, balmier Europe than I was?" she tapped her fingers on her hips, challenging and unwavering.

"No, I mean, yes. I know that. There just has to b-be―"

"Can we just get on with it and argue about it later, please?" she cut him off once more. He somehow managed to sigh through his chattering teeth, and she couldn't stop the small smile from tipping up the corner of her mouth because she knew she had won.

"Right, then. Lay back," she commanded gently after arranging one of the blankets on the floor behind him. He did as she asked, lowering himself onto his back with a grunt of pain. She knelt next to him, slipping the flannel jacket on over her now gaping blouse. Daniel was being a beacon of propriety, diligently looking anywhere but her exposed camisole and gooseflesh-speckled décolletage.

 _In for a penny._

She gently lowered over him, carefully draping herself so that their exposed skin was pressing flush together, while making sure to not hurt his injured shoulder in the process. He let out a hiss as the warmth of her stomach touched the cold skin of his.

"Sorry!" fear for his injury making her freeze in place.

"No, it's fine. You're j-just warm is all."

"Is that not the whole idea?" she quipped and he managed a smile through his shivering. Grabbing the second blanket, she tossed it over their tangled legs, kicking it a bit to make sure it covered their feet. Once satisfied, she risked one last look at him before tucking her face into the crook of his neck and curling her arms around him.

She suddenly hoped he was too cold to notice the pounding of her heart.

Seconds ticked by as silence stretched out, neither moving save for the tremors still shaking Daniel. She was about to open her mouth to say something – _anything_ – to break the tension, when she felt his arms lift and hesitantly slip underneath the flannel jacket, circling her waist and shifting her closer. Her body finally began to relax, the warmth between them blooming, and she could feel his body begin to calm beneath her.

"So," he cleared his throat after a minute. "You've done this before?"

"Hardly, but _I_ actually listened in basic training."

A laugh rumbled through him, and she smiled in response, unconsciously rubbing her cheek a little where it rested on his collarbone. "I also am modifying a technique I learned from Mr. Jarvis."

"Jarvis?" his confusion was evident.

"Hmm, yes. He calls this the 'tortoise of fury'."

"Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not," she smiled again, thinking of her favorite butler in his ridiculous athletic wear. But the image of pasty English skin faded as a new thought entered her mind, a curiosity over Daniel's past pushing her to ask him: "Have _you_ ever been in this kind of situation before?"

"Not quite. But close."

"Really?" she was surprised. "When was that?"

"When I lost this guy," he shifted his prosthetic leg against her. "Winter of '44. In Bastogne." Her breath caught when he said that name, and she knew exactly what he was going to say as he continued. "Incidentally, it was a friend of yours who saved our hides. It was Stev―" he stopped suddenly, and she felt his body tense. "Oh, god. I'm sorry, Peggy. I wasn't thinking, I―"

"No, no. It's quite alright," she assured. Because it was. Her heart had finally healed enough where the mention of Steve no longer cut like a knife, where she could hear the tales of his heroics and genuinely smile, not hurt quite so much. She lifted her head to look at Daniel, and seeing the remorse on his face, she pressed on. "I would like to hear your story. Really. If you don't mind sharing, that is."

He gave her a long look, the sudden intensity in those brown eyes causing her heartbeat to tick up, before nodding and adjusting himself, finding a comfortable position once again. Peggy tucked herself back into the crook of his neck, enjoying the feeling of his warming skin against hers, patiently waiting for him to begin. "I'm sure you know most of the logistics of it all, how the 101st got trapped behind German lines. We'd been battling them for over a month straight, had taken control of the town, but we were out of supplies when their pals at Hydra surrounded us and rigged a whole nasty treasure chest of blockades along every major road in or out, I mean stuff I'd never seen before. No hope for any support, whether by road or air. It was freezing with a foot of snow on the ground, and men were dropping like flies because our winter gear was pretty much useless," he huffed out a bitter laugh. "I can see why Stark was working on those self-heating uniforms."

She'd been in plenty of rough spots herself in the war, but it was never any easier to hear about when others had gone through their own. Especially when it was someone she cared about.

"Anyway. We were crouched in our trenches, trying to keep as warm as possible, when we started hearing the distant sound of explosions. And for the first time in a week, I began to hope. It's not like the Germans were out there blowing themselves up, you know? It had to be our guys coming to relieve us. We gathered the last of the ammunition we had, which was basically next to nothing at that point, and slowly started making our way through the woods towards the commotion, exchanging gunfire with the German line as we approached. Suddenly a flash of red, white and blue flew by, knocked out two kraut snipers we didn't even see, and just like that, we were fighting alongside _the_ Captain America. I will say, the man knew how to make an entrance."

"That he did. Steve could be quite the showman," she smiled, familiar fondness warming her heart.

"He sure could. I mean, I'd heard stories, but man, it was a whole other ballgame to actually see him in action. He made short work of the Germans surrounding us, which was a godsend considering we were basically down to our bayonets and boot knives at that point."

She didn't want to dwell on that terrifying thought. "What happened next?"

"Well, we followed Cap's lead and were nearly home free – I'm talking I could see the Allied tanks up ahead – when my buddy Jim stepped on a mine. We all heard the click. He froze and my heart just _dropped_. We were so close to getting out of there, I couldn't let it end that way. I couldn't lose another guy that close to freedom. So I just ran full-steam at him, praying that somehow the momentum would clear us both of the explosion enough to live. The last thing I remember is plowing into Jim, and then I woke up a week later in a field hospital, a new leg propped on the chair next to my bed, waiting to become better acquainted."

He had a way of talking about his leg that made light of it, but she was no fool. She knew what the loss of a limb did to people, she knew the cost and the scars (both visible and invisible) it left. Daniel's unwavering strength and courage left her in awe more than he could know.

"Sounds to me that you were just as much of a hero as Steve."

"Well, I don't know about that," he tried to brush off the praise. "I don't really have a leg to stand on when it comes to Captain America," he finished with a teasing tone, but she could hear the sadness there as well. She knew the legacy Steve left could be both an impressive and intimidating thing, especially for the men who had fought on the front lines with him, who had risked just as much as he had to fight against the evil in the world.

"What utter rot," she thumped Daniel's chest. "Keep that sort of talk up and I will no longer be your personal heater," she threatened, cheeks heating as she focused once more on their...intimate...position at the moment. His thoughts must have taken a similar turn, his body stiffening and shifting slightly beneath hers as he let out an awkward cough, causing the silk of her camisole to rub deliciously over the soft mat of his chest hair.

 _Get it together, girl._

Collecting herself, she refocused on the topic at hand. "So did your plan work, then? Did Jim make it as well?"

"He did, a little toasted but okay. Cap apparently saw the whole thing, slung us both over his shoulders like a couple of sacks of potatoes, and hauled us out to the medic tent. I never got the chance to thank him," he finished quietly, frustration tinging his voice. "I wish I could have thanked him."

Here, at least, was a bit of comfort she could give. "He would have just said 'no thanks necessary', Daniel. Honestly," she insisted when he started to argue. "Like you, I doubt he thought twice about helping someone in need. It was simply just in his nature to do so, as it is yours."

He seemed to absorb this, turning his head to watch the snow fall outside the window. His shivering had stopped, their body heats now mingling cozily. She knew they needed to begin planning how to get back home, how to get past the men with guns lurking in the woods. But she couldn't bring herself to move from him quite yet. Out here, alone together in a snow-covered cabin, she could be a little brave on the front of _them_. She could say some things that she's been wanting to say to him for ages now.

"I am glad he was able to help you, to help you make it back," _back here_ _to me_ , she silently finished in her head. While she wasn't ready to share all her feelings just yet, she needed him to know that this was important to her, that _he_ was important to her. Lifting her hand, she hesitantly placed it over his heart and hoped he understood.

She held her breath as she waited for any response from him. She could feel the steady beat of his heart below her palm increase ever so slightly at her words, and she hoped it wasn't just her imagination. But then slowly his hand came up, brushing her fingers lightly before tangling them with his own, and his voice was warm when he answered her.

"Given my position at the moment, I'm pretty glad, too."

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End file.
